Tick Tock
by Sabilandako
Summary: 'Tick Tock. Tick Tock.' Hurry. The clock is ticking; his sanity is slipping away. Oh, if only they could, they would totally stop the time just to prevent this to happen. If only they could. 'Tick Tock. Tick Tock.'


**Tick Tock**

**Characters: England/Britain**

**Rating: T**

**Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy**

**Warnings: Character death, suicide**

**Summary:**

'Tick Tock. Tick Tock.' Hurry. The clock is ticking; his sanity is slipping away. Oh, if only they could, they would totally stop the time just to prevent this to happen. If only they could. 'Tick Tock. Tick Tock.'

* * *

_Tick tock, tick tock,_

Arthur gazed at his reflection at the mirror; his mind processing nothing as he took in the drastic changes that have had happened to him. Emotionless and empty eyes staring back, dark eye bags reminding that he needed to rest, and pale face- more so than usual- begging him to end all.

'End'.

End all. End his life and his countless faults.

And he was about to do that.

Arthur blinks as a part of his mind shatters.

_Tick tock, tick tock_

The silent man reached for the small knife safely placed inside the drawer of his bedside table; careful so as not to tip the empty bottle of alcohol he drank a while ago. Besides, if ever he managed to nudge the bottle resulting for it to fall, then that would be added to his very long list of his faults again.

And he was sick of always creating faults- so sick that he desperately wanted to end his life that people too desperately wanted to disappear.

At least he could fulfill their wish.

Arthur blinks as another part of his mind shatters.

_Tick tock, tick tock_

England laughed a hollow and broken laugh as he counted the faults he had accumulated all throughout his life.

A hundred faults?

Maybe a thousand?

Or maybe, a maybe that was proven hurtfully, a million faults?

The lonely man laughed again; remembering who was the man that could make a million faults without even realizing it. He was remembering who was the man so bad in doing things-letting other people hate him and labeling him as a useless being that deserved to die.

He was remembering that the man was England.

England blinks as a part of his mind shatters too.

_Tick tock, tick tock_

Arthur leaned back on the headboard of the bed; emotionlessly musing the times when he and the others would have a 'pleasant' meeting.

Oh, he remembers, what his brothers would always say to him whenever they meet. They would always make sure that England knew that he was a filth; a worthless excuse for a human. That he was just a burden; the reason why their mother died- and that he should just die too.

England smiled ruefully. 'Look, my dear brothers, I have drank bleach a while ago and scrubbed my skin raw; am I still a filth? And see? I'm killing myself because you wanted so.'

Another set of memories flashed before his mind; the one where he have had conversations with the other nations. They would always say that he really was the black sheep of Europe; a lonely island nation that wouldn't have friends. That he deserves to be alone; as no one would be willing to stay with him. That he was just an insignificant person that wouldn't be cared for even if he died.

England grinned brokenly. 'Couldn't you see that I have already accepted that I'm alone? Well, it looks like even in my death I'll be alone too."

Everything really was better off without him.

Arthur blinks as yet another part of his mind shatters.

_Tick tock, tick tock_

Blank eyes gazed over the man's bleeding wrist; face emotionless as it looked at the blood flowing from Arthur's mutilated arm towards the already blood-soaked bed.

And as the blood flowed; another liquid seemed to join it.

Salty water from the once-lively-turned-empty green eyes of the hurting man.

Arthur was crying now; yet he managed to choke a laugh as he pondered on why had he become as laughable and pitiful as this.

Well, it was his fault anyway.

Arthur blinks through the tears as a part of his mind shatters again.

_Tick tock, tick tock_

The man shifts his both throbbing and bloody arms on top of his heart; his voice hoarse from muttering pitiful 'I am sorry's to broken 'Please help me's gravitating to desperate 'Why?'s towards to yet another set of choked 'I am sorry's.

His tears continued to flow; the man making no move to stop them. Oh, how could he stop them now, seeing as the dam inside himself had already been broken yet so many times? He had been fractured enough; more so with the words and accusation thrown at him that just made him cry and _'Please, oh god, p-please I'm begging you, stop...! I can't t-take it, p-please I'm dying alrea-'_

And yet, his painful cries and wails have been unheard again; just like what had been happening since centuries ago.

Arthur tries to blink as the blood continues to flow and as a part of his mind shatters.

_Tick tock, tick tock_

The man stilled; this time, his face being back to the emotionless mask that he always wore.

All emotions left him; all memories and feelings whisked away. He already couldn't feel anything, even a bit of self-pity, as the tears stopped. Sadness, desperation, loneliness, hurt, and woe leaving him instantly.

All things leave him anyway.

He stared at the ceiling; a hazy mode instantly latching on his mind. And it was because of one simple thing.

Arthur doesn't get to blink as his mind completely shatters.

_'Tick tock, tic-'_

There was silence.

A silence that was caused by the Englishman laying on his bed of blood. Or maybe, a silence because of the lack of actions being made by Arthur?

That made perfect sense.

Perfect in such a way that it becomes a completely delicious opposite of him. No matter how much anyone see it, his death really didn't stop anything; it didn't stop global warning or economic crisis, it didn't stop overpopulation; meaning that Arthur, England, The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, was still useless even up to his death. Although, maybe it had caused something; that being giving happiness to Arthur's brothers and the other nations.

Oh, he was sure with that.

The poor man was really pitiful; having been born and dying alone. He was just a lost man who didn't even know how, what, and why all of these things happened to him. He really was innocent; a man that didn't get to taste justice from the cruel world around him. Everyone deprived him of the love and acceptance that he so wished to feel; leaving him all by himself to cover dust and to slowly but surely deteriorate.

Arthur Kirkland, the personification of England, died on the clutches of hell.

Although too bad that he ended his life before his door opened revealing his brothers and the other nations; with their intention to invite England to a celebration.

Too bad that he didn't see that the others can't blink as a huge part of their lives shatters at the sight of the fallen and broken England.

_Tick tock, tick tock, the clock is ticking. His sanity and life slipped away._

_Tick tock, tick tock._

* * *

**So, just a short one-shot I made... I am sorry for this though, I have writer's block. And for those who are following my other stories, please be informed that I would be in hiatus for a while for three reasons: Writer's block, my studies, and for all the unfortunate things that just kept on happening and happening to me.**

**Also, I made this because I want to redeem even at least a little piece of dignity for my very messed up life.**

**Okay, sorry for bothering you.**

**Please feel free to ignore me and my shitty writing.**


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